Weathered
by wallscollide
Summary: A companion piece to Storms. What if Stef had found Callie before the groundskeeper? One-shot.


**A/N:** This was written right after _Storms_ was finished. I wasn't ready to let go of this scenario yet and this is what I came up with.

I guess you don't _have_ to read _Storms_ in order to understand this as it mostly stands on its own, but Callie's feelings are better outlined there, so, the themes here connect more if you read both.

I don't own _The Fosters_.

This is entirely from Stef's point of view. Enjoy.

* * *

I just got back in my car after talking to Rita and all of the Girls United residents. None of them have seen or heard from her.

No one has.

"Damn it, Callie," I say under my breath, closing my eyes.

I put my car in drive and leave. I go back to scanning the streets when something catches my eye. A sign.

Oakview Cemetery.

Callie's mom is buried there.

 _Maybe_...

I pull in through the gate and park. I get out and do an initial scan of the area, coming up empty. I decide to walk around, going to the 'Js.'

That's when I see something on the grass. Something dark, but the white stands out to me.

It's Callie.

She's not moving.

I run to her, my feet sloshing through the mud and water-logged ground.

I kneel next to her and put the umbrella over her. She's shivering; her breaths are coming in quick pants. Her clothes are completely soaked. She's lying on her jacket.

I touch her skin and it's like ice.

I need to get her out of this rain _now_.

"Callie? Callie, baby, wake up," I plead, prodding her shoulder.

"Mm..." She stirs, opening her eyes a bit. "Mom?"

"C'mon, let's get you out of here."

"Wanna stay with you," she mumbles.

I realize that she thinks I'm Colleen. She's confused.

"No, honey. You're confused. It's Stef. We need to go."

Callie has a second of recognition in her face which I take as a good sign.

"Yeah. That's it. I'm Stef. You're really cold, so we need to get you warmed up, okay?"

"Stef...?"

"I'm right here. C'mon. Be easy," I tell her; I put a hand out to steady her as she sits up. She seems a little woozy.

 _How long has she been out in this downpour?_

I don't trust her to be able to walk, not with the grass as slick as it is.

"I'm gonna pick you up and carry you to the car, okay? Ready?"

I fold up the umbrella and stick it in my back pocket. Then, I grab Callie's jacket and put my arms under her knees and around her back, lifting her. Callie's not holding on to me and I know the rain and cold have caused a lack of coordination. I shift her and get the passenger door open, placing her inside. I hurry to start the car.

"Callie, I need you to try to sit up for me, okay? Can you do that?"

"Mm..."

She does try and is a little more upright.

I pull out of the cemetery and use the car's Bluetooth system to call Lena.

"Hey."

"Hey. I found Callie."

"Oh, thank God," she exhales. "Where was she?"

"Oakview Cemetery. Listen, she's cold and most likely hypothermic. I need you to take the kitchen shears, thermometer, dry clothes, towels, and blankets to the downstairs bathroom. Get the kids to help, but keep them upstairs. Go, Lena. _Now_."

I disconnect the call and continue driving. I pull into our driveway and carry Callie up the steps.

Lena opens the door and I bring her directly to the bathroom, setting her down on a towel. I grab the shears and begin cutting off her jeans, then her shirt. I remove her bra and underwear; Lena and I work in tandem to dry her off and pull a couple of thick blankets over her.

"Callie, we're gonna get you warmed up, okay? Hang on."

"'Kay..."

Lena takes Callie's temperature with the tympanic thermometer. _94.2_. Low, but I think I can get this under control and avoid a trip to the hospital.

"Do we have any warm compresses?" I ask Lena.

"I'll check the first aid kit."

She comes back from upstairs with one and hands it to me. I squeeze it and place it over the back of Callie's neck, in between the blankets so it doesn't burn her.

I keep the compress in place and pull her close to me, thinking my body heat will help.

"Just stay with me, Cal. Stay with me. You're gonna be alright."

We stay like this for quite a few minutes. Lena brings me more blankets that have been fluffed in the dryer, so they're warm. I swap them out; I think they're helping.

Callie leans into me, still shivering. She seems to be breathing a little easier. "Mom...m'cold."

"I know, baby. I know. We've gotta warm you up slowly so that you don't go into shock," I tell her gently.

As a cop, I am trained in basic first aid and mild hypothermia is a covered topic. I've done what I'm supposed to do: remove wet clothing, wrap in dry blankets, don't warm extremities first, don't apply heat directly to the skin, offer—

 _Warm, sweet beverages if the person can swallow. Right._

"Lena, go make Callie tea, hot chocolate, something hot she can drink. It will start warming her up internally."

Lena complies and returns with a mug of tea. I hold it up to Callie's lips.

"Callie, do you think you can swallow some of this? It'll make you feel better, I promise."

She sits up a little and I let her have a sip. I don't notice any struggle, so I let her have another and give her a break. It's important that I don't rush this. "Good girl. You're doing great, Callie."

I keep Callie drinking and wrapped up, moving the compress to her chest. I take her temp again and it's 94.5. We're moving in the right direction.

We're still on the bathroom floor an hour later; Callie is coming around. Her temp is now is 95.2; she's no longer considered hypothermic.

Lena and I agree that the kids can be downstairs to grab dinner if they're up to it, but we make sure that they go back up right after.

Callie wants to sit up on her own; she does so for a few minutes at a time before resting against me. Lena keeps the warm blankets and tea coming and about a half hour later, I help Callie dress, putting on sweatpants, a long-sleeved shirt, and thick socks. Her shivering continues as the extra layer of warmth brings her temp up to 95.5.

Lena and I wait until it hits 96 before moving things to the living room. Callie's able to get there mostly under her own power; I spot her just in case she was to stumble. She sits down on the couch, a blanket still wrapped around her, a warm mug in her hands. She requested hot chocolate this time, which brought a smile to Lena's face.

The weakness in her body lingers, so we let her sleep. It's a quarter past nine when she wakes up; her temp is 97.2.

"How did you know where to find me?" Callie wonders, looking at me.

"I saw the cemetery entrance and it clicked. What were you doing out there?"

"Visiting her."

"You should have called Mama the minute the shower came on. You had absolutely _no_ business being outside, not to mention ditching your siblings. You know better."

"I just wanted to see her."

"That doesn't mean you can just take off, Callie. We couldn't find you. We had no idea if you were safe."

"You don't understand," she murmurs and shifts herself away from me.

"What don't I understand, Callie? You took off without telling anyone, got yourself caught out in this awful weather. We were worried sick."

Callie shakes her head. "You're not listening to me. Can I go to bed?" she asks Lena.

"Sorry, sweetheart, but we have to keep you out here a bit longer. You can go back to sleep if you want."

"Fine," she huffs, taking her blanket with her to the wrap-around couch.

Lena sighs. "Stef, come here." She stands and I follow her upstairs to our bedroom. She shuts the door. "You know, this is one of those times where parenting, not _policing_ is required."

I cross my arms. "What are you talking about?"

"Can you not see that Callie is hurting right now? This isn't just teenage rebellion. She went to the cemetery for a reason, and she clearly didn't want to leave."

"Lena, she misses her mom. I get that. What I _don't_ get it is why she turned the tracker off. We've made that rule very clear to all of the kids."

"No, you don't 'get it.' Look, if you're doing this because you want to avoid what happened with—"

"Hey," I snap. "Don't start with me." She struck an extremely painful nerve just now.

But Lena doesn't let up. "No, Stef. You need to reconcile with whatever your issues are—"

"I don't—"

"Yes, you do. Frank's gone. He can't hurt you anymore. You need to help your daughter. As hard as it is, you have to step up."

I sigh heavily and sit down on the edge of the bed. "What if I can't? What if I can't do that?" I ask her in a low voice.

Lena walks over and sits next to me. "You can, honey. You can. I'm right here beside you."

"Promise?" My voice is small, almost child-like.

"Always."

She kisses my temple and the floodgates open.

I realize that I need to begin healing, and my daughter does, too.

 _[][][][][][]_

Callie stayed in our room last night. Her temp was 98.3, taken around midnight. 99 at 6 AM. We need to keep an eye on it in case it's a sign of infection.

Everyone was very cooperative in not waking her up this morning. Lena and the kids went to school. I called in to work and Anchor Beach's attendance hotline to confirm Callie's excused absence.

I'm nursing a cup of coffee with today's paper in front of me, although, I'm not really reading it.

I'm trying to figure out what to say to Callie.

Lena's right. I really blew it, big time.

She needed 'Mom' and got 'Officer Adams Foster' instead.

I exhale sharply and put my head in my hands.

I don't know how long I sat like that, but I hear Callie come downstairs. I look at the clock. It's almost nine.

She does not acknowledge me at all as she goes to the fridge for a yogurt and grabs a spoon from the silverware drawer.

I deserve that.

She turns to go back upstairs, but I stop her.

"Hey...Callie. Come here for a sec."

I can tell that she's weighing her options. After a moment, she sets the cup down and faces me.

"I just wanna check your temp really quick. It was 99 earlier and we've gotta make sure you're not sick."

She relents, coming to my side and letting me use the thermometer. I'm relieved to see a lower result flash on the screen.

"98.8."

She seems satisfied with that and goes back upstairs.

I sigh again.

 _This is gonna be harder than I thought_.

 _[][][][][][]_

A few hours later, Callie emerges from her bedroom. I'm in the living room watching TV.

I hear her go into the kitchen and out the back door.

I get up and look out the window. She has her guitar.

I decide to give her some space for awhile.

After a half-hour, I go outside. Callie's still playing. It sounds really good. She's been such a quick learner with it.

She's still picking a melody when I walk up, but stops once she notices me.

"Come to berate me some more 'cause I'm such a bad kid?"

I deserve that, too.

"No," I start calmly. "I want—"

"What makes you think I give a shit about what you want?" she challenges me, her voice hard.

 _That's not acceptable_. She's pushing my buttons on purpose, goading me to lose my cool so I'll storm off or send her to her room. I count to three in my head before responding. "Callie, I don't care how mad you are at me. You do not talk to me or anyone else that way."

"Leave me alone."

"Cal—"

Callie puts her guitar aside and stands up on the planks by the tree. "Get out of my face! I don't wanna talk to you! Don't you get that?"

"Well, that's too bad. I'm not going anywhere."

My calm demeanor is only making her more furious.

"Just ground me, already! Take away my phone, I really don't care! Punish me and get it over with!"

Her anger's not fooling me. She's trying to avoid the real issues at hand, just like I was last night.

"No. You and I are gonna talk."

" _Are you deaf?_ I said I'm not talking to you!"

"Then, don't. You can listen."

She turns her back to me.

"I'm...sorry that I didn't listen to you when you were trying to tell me about your mom."

I see Callie's shoulders tense at the mention of her mother.

"I should've been your parent instead of a cop. I was just so worried about you. If I hadn't found you when I did, who knows what would've happened? Hypothermia can be fatal if it's severe enough. You are very fortunate to be standing there and not in a hospital, or dead."

I take a deep breath and continue. "It's okay if you miss your mom. It's okay to be sad, mad that she's not here."

"Don't," she whispers.

"Mad that she couldn't be there for you when you needed her the most."

"Please." I detect desperation in her tone.

"Mad that you feel like you need her now, but you can't do anything about it."

Silence.

"She can't come back no matter how much you wish for it."

"Stop."

"Some people still have both of their parents. But we can't say that, can we?"

"Stop." A sniffle.

"It's okay to be upset and cry and grieve. Colleen will always be your mom. Nothing's ever gonna change that. She'd want you to be happy, Callie. Every mother wants that for her child."

"Stop." She can barely say it now, tears now overwhelming her voice.

"Lena and I love you so much. We hate to see you hurt so badly."

"Stop. Please. Stop." Callie sinks to the ground. "Stop...stop..." She's full-on sobbing, lying in the fetal position, sucking in gulps of air as her body reminds her to breathe.

I finally go to her and pull her into my lap, smoothing her hair. "Let it go, baby...let it go. I'm right here. I'm not leaving you. You don't have to go through this by yourself anymore."

Callie keeps crying for a bit and starts to settle down, trying to regain control over her breathing.

"Slow breaths. In and out. It's alright. You're gonna be okay. I've got you."

The two of us are still outside. Callie's head is still in my lap. She's calm now.

"Mom?"

"What is it, love?"

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you about her. How I was feeling. I felt...like I was suffocating. It was just consuming me. My every thought. This is the first time it's happened since..."

"Grandpa Frank's memorial?" I finish for her.

A beat. "Yeah."

"Mama and I both think therapy might be good for you, Callie. Some assistance in processing everything isn't a bad thing."

"Can I think about it?"

"Sure."

"I guess I can try it," Callie says after a few minutes.

"That's all we ask." I look down at my daughter. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

That one word was going to carry us.

It always would.

* * *

 **A/N:** I hope you guys liked this. Let me know what you think.

More stuff is on the way. I've given myself some time to recharge my creative batteries and write some more. Stay tuned...


End file.
